Different
by Libek
Summary: First anniversary fluffy dinner date. Ichigo/Orihime.


Orihime wasn't quite sure what she'd expected when he asked her out to dinner, but she _knew_ it hadn't been this. Not even for their first anniversary.

She would have said Ichigo wasn't this type of person -- that neither of them were really this type of person. While other couples made reservations in fancy restaurants, they went to the McDonald's on the corner and sat in a cozy little booth. While other couples bought diamonds, Orihime was happy with new stuffed animals to add to her collection.

Even their wedding had been simple and quiet and inexpensive; lots of people, yes -- every friend from school and work, their neighbors, the odd amiable passerby -- but casual-dress, catered by the local sandwich shop, and in their own apartment for the most part.

And now this. A four-star restaurant that had she remembered hearing about on the morning news, because overnight it had gone from a brand-new place run by some nobody into one of the most exclusive eateries in all of Tokyo.

She fiddled with her ring (no engagement ring, the night before the wedding Ichigo had said, "We pretty much got engaged a long time ago, do you want one now?" and she had hastily waved him off) and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. It really, really wasn't McDonald's, and she felt very much out of place in her jeans and t-shirt. "Maybe I should go home and change," she whispered.

Ichigo snorted. "I know the guy who runs this place. He won't care."

She couldn't help a nervous giggle. "Well, okay." But silently she added, Did you save his life?

Only even that wouldn't have made much sense, because he was a Shinigami, not a firefighter, and rarely saved the living. (And she was pretty sure that spirits would have a lot of trouble opening a restaurant, let alone getting food critics to come there and everything else that would result in such a crowd that reservations were needed.)

Maybe they were blackmailing him instead, like in a movie. Oh, that would be terrible -- the police always figured it out sooner or later, and the blackmailers never had time to enjoy the money they'd worked so hard to get. And if they'd kidnapped his family, well, that would _really_ end badly, kidnappers usually died in slow motion with a swell of music--

"Orihime..."

She blinked and turned to look at him and found that he was frowning, very slightly. It took her a minute to remember what she had said, but that shouldn't have given him reason enough to frown like that -- like he was worried about her.

"If you're really that uncomfortable, we can go. We don't have to do this."

And that made her hesitate. "No," she said, matching his small frown. "I mean, maybe a little, but..." But more than that, she wanted to know why he had brought her here. She didn't like the idea of just leaving, probably with him grumpy and sullen and worst of all _silent_ for the rest of the night, without poking at him at least a little about why.

"No, it's fine," Ichigo insisted, stuffing his hands into his pockets. She hadn't really noticed before, but he had dressed nicely for this. Not to the point of a suit or a tuxedo, but... nicely. A button-down shirt, and black slacks. And the shirt looked new. "We'll just -- go."

"No," she repeated, more insistent now, and caught his elbow so that he had to face her. She was surprised to see how red his face was. "Ichigo... Why this place? Why tonight?"

If anything, he seemed to turn redder, the bright color spreading from his cheeks to his ears and throat and whole face until she might have expected it to glow in the dark. "Well, it's just..."

She waited, and didn't let him shrug his shoulders or pull away from her when he jerked weakly like he wanted to.

Finally, Ichigo sighed and dropped his head, so that she still couldn't really see his expression when he mumbled, "It's our first anniversary. I wanted to do somethin' different."

The words were like a bubble in her chest, slowly inflating, getting bigger and bigger and bigger until she could hardly breathe around it and had to pull him close, had to make a very high-pitched noise instead of speaking, and wet his new shirt with the sort of happy tears that always alarmed him a little because he didn't understand the idea of happy tears.

"Well," she told him, very soft and damp, "this is very different."

Maybe a little bit _too_ different. There were other restaurants they could have gone to that were nicer than McDonald's without making her feel like she should have been wearing the diamonds she didn't own.

And, as if he had heard all the things she hadn't said, Ichigo laughed a bit breathlessly, reaching around to slowly disengage her. "Not all _that_ different."

He turned her around by twisting her shoulders, and she moved because she didn't have much choice, and then Orihime felt very awkward again, because they weren't alone at the entrance to the restaurant anymore -- a suited man had come up to them, and was now bowing very deeply, so of course this must be the owner he had blackmailed into letting them in, and how long had he been standing there oh god...

Except that then the man straightened, short hair falling briefly into his eyes, and brushed it back hastily to grin at them both. He was very familiar. "Kurosaki-san," he said happily. "Inoue-san."

"Hey, Hanatarou," Ichigo returned, and she could feel the grin in his tone. "Nice place you've got here."

"Oh," Hanatarou said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You really think so? I don't know what all these people are doing here, they just keep showing up! Maybe there's a hurricane warning and they really want to get in out of the rain..."

It wasn't raining, so this seemed unlikely, but Orihime couldn't help smiling at him, or feeling tremendously relieved, or suddenly thinking that maybe jeans and a t-shirt weren't such terrible dinner attire.

"I'm pretty sure it's the food," Ichigo offered, warm and amused. "Table's ready?"

Hanatarou nodded rapidly. "Everyone does these things very quickly," he said, as if he couldn't quite believe they were doing them on his instructions. "It's almost like having my squad here." Then he beamed and began to usher them back through the -- his -- restaurant.

They were almost to the table when Ichigo said, quiet and like he'd only just remembered she might be, "Still uncomfortable?"

She giggled. "No, not really. You were right. It's really not _that_ different."

Like being married instead of only dating. Like being Orihime instead of Inoue. Like letting him make breakfast in the morning, and letting the soft shhh of his breathing lull her to sleep each night.

Different, but every change so gradual that she hardly noticed them at all.


End file.
